Tag: saints

Saint Edith of Kemsing: When Fashion Met Faith

They called her too glamorous for God. But Edith’s answer still challenges how we see faith today.

Edith was born in 961, a princess, the daughter of King Edgar of England. She could have grown up in a palace, surrounded by riches and power. But her mother, Wulfthryth, chose differently. She brought her child to Wilton Abbey (a community of nuns who live, study, and pray together). The palace doors closed, and abbey walls became Edith’s world.

Inside, she grew into Sister Edith. While most nuns wore plain habits, she walked in silk robes with embroidered sleeves, her jewelry shining in the candlelight. People criticized her for it, saying she was too glamorous, too stylish to be holy.

Sister Edith didn’t stay silent. She explained her choice with calm confidence:

“If my heart is not proud, what harm is it if I wear gold? God looks at the heart, not the clothes. Beauty itself comes from Him, and it can be used to honor Him.”

Her style wasn’t for show. It was her way of lifting beauty back to God. And her life proved it—she gave generously to the poor, supported her abbey, and even helped restore churches. She carried both grace and humility, royalty and service.

Her time was short. At just twenty-three years old, in 984, Sister Edith died. Yet miracles were reported at her tomb, and she was soon honored as Saint Edith. She was remembered not as the daughter of a king who might have ruled a kingdom, but as the young woman who turned fashion into faith, and beauty into prayer.

ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ

Traces of courage, silence, and sacrifice—this is Saints.

Listen on Apple Music, Apple Music Classical, and YouTube Music

Ordo Virtutum

Not all voices can join the music. And in that silence, the story finds its sharpest truth.

The Play of the Virtues by Saint Hildegard of Bingen (A short retelling)

There’s this Soul. She’s hanging with the Virtues—Humility, Charity, Patience—the good crowd. They’re all singing together, and it’s not just music, it’s like the whole vibe of heaven. Everything clicks.

Then the Devil shows up. And here’s the funny part: he can’t sing. Not a single note. He just yells, spits promises, tries to sound cool. “Come with me, I’ve got freedom, I’ve got pleasure.” But it’s all noise. No rhythm, no tune.

The Soul falls for it. Steps out of the harmony, follows the noise. For a while, she thinks she’s winning. But the deeper she goes, the more empty it gets. Just chains. No beat.

Finally, she snaps out of it. “I wanna go back.”

The Virtues don’t shame her. They don’t say, “Told you.” They just welcome her back, and their music rises again. Stronger this time, bright enough to drown out the Devil’s noise. He rages, but he’s powerless—because noise can’t beat music.

And that’s how it ends: the Soul restored, the harmony alive, and the Devil stuck in silence.

Evil makes noise. Love makes music. You decide which crowd you wanna jam with.

We remember Saint Hildegard not only through her memorial on September 17, but also through her play that still sings of mercy and truth.

ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ

Written around 1151, Ordo Virtutum remains the earliest known morality drama with music.

WATCH: A full staged performance of Ordo Virtutum by Saint Hildegard of Bingen. Performed live at St. John’s Cathedral, Los Angeles, directed by Patricia McKee, Katina Mitchell, and Ned Tipton.